


American Pie

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Series: Ripe Fruit [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Food Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's got a fetish, and Sam has no problem indulging. Yeah. You know what this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt! More food play. How bout that.

“It’s  _okay,_  Dean,” Sam gestures helplessly, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “So you did some weird shit when you were younger. Okay. I get that maybe it bothers you now, but you still liking this doesn’t have to have anything to do with that.” 

Dean crosses his arms over his chest, eyes darting away from Sam’s face as the blush on his face darkens. “Don’t see how it wouldn’t.” 

“Dean. You’ve always been a little . . . hedonistic when it comes to food. Anybody who’s been around you knows that. And if you like it to  take it a little further than just enjoying a good meal, I’m not exactly complaining here.” 

Sam watches as Dean’s gaze flicks from the pie sitting between them to Sam’s face and back; he doesn’t miss the way Dean shifts in his seat, the same shift when his hard-on is trapped in his jeans. 

“Say I believe you. How would we do this?” Dean finally says. 

“I wanna watch, but only if you’re okay with that. Otherwise . . . I’d kind of like to help you.” 

Sam’s cheeks pink when Dean raises an eyebrow at him, sitting up a little in his chair. 

“Really now. You’re gonna help your big brother get it on with a cherry pie?” 

“I like getting you off, and if this works -” Sam just shrugs, and apparently his nonchalance is enough to get Dean to agree. 

“. . . Alright. C’mon. The pie isn’t gonna last forever.” 

Sam picks it up as Dean walks away from the table, following his brother to their bedroom. It’s telling that Dean wants to do this here, even though they’ve fucked in nearly every room and on every surface in the bunker at this point. The bedroom is their safe space, and Sam makes sure to shut and lock the door behind them just to solidify that point even though no one else is around. 

Dean’s already stripping, shoes off, dropping his flannel to the floor, and reaching to tug his tee shirt up before Sam stops him with a hand around his wrist. 

“Let me?” 

Nodding, Dean drops his hands to his sides, waiting for Sam to set the pie on the desk. Sam traces careful fingers along the edge of Dean’s shirt, teasing the soft skin of his sides and belly that earns him the tiniest hitch of breath. He eases them beneath the fabric, rubbing slow circles up his brother’s abdomen until he’s rucked up Dean’s shirt far enough that it’s just easier to pull it off. Dean lifts his arms obligingly, allowing Sam to tug the tee over his head. For such a simple motion, it triggers a swell of affection in Sam that has him pulling Dean close. 

Sam kisses Dean’s cheek and temple, nuzzling him gently and he can feel the moment his brother relaxes in his arms. 

“Big puppy,” Dean grumbles, but he leans back just far enough to catch Sam’s mouth with a kiss. Sam takes the opportunity to unbuckle Dean’s belt, pushing his jeans and boxers to the floor. “C’mon, off.” Dean tugs insistently at Sam’s shirt, and together they peel off his clothes, dropping the fabric to join the pile on the floor. 

Sam guides Dean over to the desk, nudging him to get Dean to rest his hands on it, leaving him just a little bent over. He moves away just to grab the lube from the bedside table, and Dean shoots him a curious look over his shoulder. 

“Not gonna need that, am I?” 

“No,” Sam grins. “But I will.” Dean’s eyes go wide as he catches on, and Sam stifles a laugh when his brother adjusts his stance so his legs are spread a little further. 

The first finger slides in easy and Dean shudders at the steady push. Sam makes thorough work of fingering him open, skating his fingers just over Dean’s prostate to watch him jerk. There’s a bead of precome that’s dripped onto the shiny desk surface when Sam peeks over Dean’s shoulder and he can’t help but smile. 

“Grab the pie, Dean,” Sam murmurs against his brother’s ear. Dean obeys, if a little shakily. He drags it close enough that his cock is just resting on top of it and Sam can feel how Dean tenses. 

Lining up his cock with one hand, Sam steadies Dean with a hand on his hip and he guides his brother to push into the pie at the same time he’s pushing into Dean. He has to take it slow with how tight Dean goes when his cock makes it through the crust into the slick filling below. 

Sam helps Dean through the first few thrusts, building a slow and easy rhythm as he listens to the choked-sounding gasps Dean makes. He can crane his neck just enough to see the already-ruined crust and the bright filling clinging to Dean’s cock. Eventually, Dean starts moving of his own accord, thrusting desperately forward and back; Sam knows Dean’s going to come first and just gives him the reins. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck God, Sam, Sam-” Sam thrusts harder into Dean right then, causing him to break off with a cry and Sam could swear he hears tinfoil crumple when Dean jerks. 

“Please, please, Sammy, can I, fuck.” Groaning when Sam realizes what Dean is asking for, he sinks his fingers deep into the flesh at Dean’s hips, really fucking into Dean so that his brother barely needs to move. 

“Yes, come, go on Dean you can-” 

Dean practically sobs, hips thrusting erratically as he spills into the cherry pie under him and Sam follows only a handful of thrusts after. He has to catch Dean to keep  him from crumpling over the desk, breathless and sweaty as he is. Sam knows he can’t get Dean to the bathroom right now, so he settles for getting his brother to the bed and wetting a washcloth in the sink to wipe him down. 

There’s a dazed look on Dean’s face, red cherry filling and flaky pie crust smeared on his belly, hips, and cock. There’s just enough pink to hint at the come mixed in, and Sam’s tempted to drop to his knees right there to clean Dean off. As it is, Dean yanks him down for a kiss, whimpering when Sam wipes him clean. 

Sam grabs the blanket folded over the end of the bed, draping it over Dean and crawling under it beside him. 

“So. Good?” he asks after a while and Dean just laughs tiredly. Rolling over into Sam’s arms, he buries his face against his neck. 

“Thanks, Sammy.” The words are a whisper, but Sam hears them anyway. With a little hum, he just tugs Dean closer and relaxes into the cuddle. 


End file.
